Pretty Much Perfect
by Too Many OCs
Summary: A John-centred story. He runs into an old friend, who gives some advice. Pre-slash.


John leaned back in the uncomfortable hospitable bed and gritted his teeth through the wave of pain that accompanied the action. _You've been through worse,_ he reminded himself.

The memories of what exactly had landed him there were perhaps more agonizing, though. The high, menacing tones of Moriarty; the brittle, betrayed look on Sherlock's face when he stepped out of the changing rooms; the impact of the explosives as he knocked Sherlock into the pool. The pain.

He was distracted from the flashback by the door being abruptly shoved open. _Another nurse. Please, God, not the overly-cheery one with boyfriend issues she likes to share._

'Hey, Johnny, you mind if I light one up?' An unexpectedly familiar Irish brogue was slightly grating in the hushed room.

John burrowed his head into his hands to battle the ensuing migraine.

'You can't- This is a no-smoking area.'

She snorted.

'The whole of England is a no-smoking area.'

He surrendered and glanced up at the source of the voice. He was slightly vexed to discover that Annie Gallagher hadn't changed at all. Silhouetted as she was against the sunlight streaming in through the window, her hair blazed, her eyes simmered and her expression was of mild amusement.

'Christ, it feels like I haven't seen you since army training. Harry's marriage broken up yet?'

'Of course.'

'Then you so owe me £50.' She flashed a triumphant smirk as John winced at that particular memory. How he thought betting on his sister's future happiness was all right, he couldn't recollect.

'Hey, speaking of alcoholic failures, did you hear what happened to Kutner?'

'My old friend from school? No, what?'

'Died. Shot in a mugging.'

'What?' John jerked up quickly in horror.

'Psych!' She cackled, long and throatily. 'God, forgotten how fun you are.'

He let his head drop onto his chest in exhausted frustration. _And I'd forgotten how annoying you were._

'Met a girl outside your room. Sally?'

'Sarah.' Terror descended quickly- _she wouldn't, would she?_

'She's cute. Really adorable…'

'Yeah?'

'Which nearly makes up for how mind-numbingly boring she is. I mean, my god, John?'

'Don't bloody well do this, Annie.'

'I mean it. Jesus, she must be good in bed.'

John averted his gaze awkwardly.

'You haven't even…? Wow. She isn't interesting or a slut? And _you're_ dating her?'

He rolled his eyes irritably. 'What did you say to her?'

'Deflection. And just the truth. Not my fault she decided not to stick around, _'Three Continents' _Watson.'

'For God's sake-'

'Please. If you wanted another Lois Lane with half a brain, then you'd notice half the nurses in this place are in love with you.'

He shifted, flattered but uncomfortable. 'Really?'

'Well, the one who did your physical examination has been gossiping in the lounge, apparently.' She grins, and the irritation he feels is battled down by the sudden surge of affection. Not anything like what he used to feel for her, but the warm glow of friendship. He rather suspects the place in his heart she used to hold has been filled.

'There's a guy in the waiting room that's been there since the explosion happened, by the way. Looks knackered, poor soul.' She tilted her head to the side and leaned back to assess his response. He steeled himself. 'Now _he_ is pretty interesting.'

'My flatmate. Sherlock. I know what you're thinking, but-'

'His name is _Sherlock?_ Moment to make fun of that, please. What's his brother called, Rumpelstiltskin?'

'Mycroft.'

She snorted. 'Ridiculous name or not, he seems pretty much devoted to you. And good-looking. And smart enough to be punched in the face on a regular basis.'

_If only she knew._

She shrugged. 'I'm just putting it out there, okay? As someone who knows you well, I'm telling you: it would be pretty much perfect.'

She stalked to the door, her hair flying out behind her dramatically.

'Bye, Annie,' he sighed, his tone one of slight admiration.

She swivelled on her six-inch-tall heel, and popped her head back in the door.

'Oh, and John? Your wallet may be missing around £150 when you get out of here.'

My first story, so be gentle! Anyone who notices the Jekyll or Friends references in it get a virtual hug, and anyone who reviews gets two.

The OC may be slightly clichéd, and I don't think I got John's tone, but I really liked the idea of someone from his past bringing him and Sherlock together.

I considered doing Sherlock and Irene Adler (Norton?) but I don't really like how much people ship them, despite her being in only one story. And married.

So thanks for reading, and I hope you review!


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